“Write to us, or send a servant, if you need us,” Gerard said.
“Yes, we will take care of you,” Berenger said.
“Write often about how you are faring,” Edwin added.
If only they could stay home longer. But perhaps with them gone it would be easier to convince Parnella that any evil intention toward her from Delia or her brothers was completely imagined. And then all would be harmonious between them.
* * *
Almost three years later, Spring 1381
Delia listened through the crack in her stepmother’s bedchamber door.
“You must do something,” Parnella was saying. “As it is now, our son will inherit nothing. Those selfish sons of your first wife will treat him badly when we are both dead and cold in the ground. His life will not be worth living. They’ll throw him out to starve.”
Delia strained to hear how her father responded, but his voice was too low.
“You must! You are the Earl of Dericott. You can change it.”
“I cannot change the laws of England. The king . . .”
Delia could not hear the rest.
Surely Father wouldn’t listen to that woman’s evil counsel. But he had been different since he’d married Parnella. He’d never been a particularly attentive or affectionate father. But now he was constantly accusing her and her brothers of some ill will or wrongdoing toward Parnella, ideas Delia was certain her stepmother was putting into his head.
And there was the matter of her half brother, Cedric. It was strange how Parnella guarded her baby. He was four months old, yet Delia rarely saw him. Parnella kept Cedric in her own bedchamber, with a nursemaid to watch over him. Delia longed to help take care of the child, to hold him and see him smile up at her. But when Edwin had come to visit and picked up the baby, Parnella actually screamed, as if Edwin were trying to harm the baby or steal him away. She snatched Cedric out of his hands and cried, “You are not to touch him! Not ever!”
Delia did her best to keep out of their way.
When she heard movement on the other side of the door, Delia hurried away before she was caught eavesdropping.
Lately Delia had been having a strange feeling of foreboding. She had tried very hard in the beginning to reassure her stepmother that no one wished her ill. In spite of that, her stepmother had treated her with contempt and criticism, to the point that Delia gave up trying to win her over.
These past few weeks her icy stares seemed bolder, and she often ceased speaking when Delia came near.
The priest would probably tell her to pray against any evil that might try to come against her family. He might tell her to love her stepmother more, for love covers a multitude of sins. And Delia had tried to do both those things, but she could not rid herself of this uneasy feeling.
* * *
Six months later, late Autumn 1381
Delia hadn't been able to get the sight of her father's lifeless body out of her mind. He'd been dead for two weeks now.
She often thought of the conversation she’d overheard between her father and stepmother and the premonition of danger it had given her. When Wat Tyler’s Rebellion began not long after, she’d assumed that was the reason for her unease. But after her father’s fatal fall from his horse . . . the uneasy feeling was a constant current crashing over her.
At least her brothers had all been allowed to return home to mourn their father’s death. She had seen them only occasionally, mostly on holy feast days, though she wrote to them often while they were away. Edwin and Gerard had already been knighted and were serving as guards at one of the king’s castles. But Edwin would not return to his knighthood duties, now that he was the new Earl of Dericott.
Delia ran down the stairs of Dericott Castle, out the door, and the short way to the stable. In the distance she saw Gerard helping twelve-year-old David practice his archery skills. She smiled at how patient Gerard looked, showing David how to draw the string.
Although Delia was still mourning her father, she was glad to have all her brothers home, and Edwin would be staying.
Delia had been meaning to speak to Edwin about their stepmother’s fears that her brothers would not care for their half brother. Of course, Edwin would never mistreat the child, but she wanted to tell him to be sensitive of his stepmother’s feelings. Even though her stepmother had not had a good relationship with Delia or her brothers, she hoped Parnella would eventually learn she could trust them. Perhaps now that she had a child of her own she would be kinder to them.
Delia pushed away thoughts of her stepmother and drew in a long, contented breath at how good it felt to be with her brothers again.
The tiny, high-pitched sound of puppies drew her attention, and she headed toward the stable and Flora, her father’s favorite hunting dog.
Flora lay in the corner of the stable in the bed Delia had made for her of old rags and blankets. Her puppies were piled around her, most of them asleep. Delia knelt on the ground beside ten-year-old Roland, who was holding a puppy in his lap. One of them was mewling and crawling around, so she picked it up.
Delia cuddled the pup to her cheek. Its fur was soft and warm in the cool autumn air.
Roland cradled the light-colored puppy against his chest. “This one is the sweetest. Look. She doesn’t mind me holding her on her back, like a baby.”
“She can sense that you are gentle and wouldn’t hurt her.” Delia smiled. Mother had died soon after Roland was born, but Delia liked to think she was carrying on for her, at least with her younger brothers. Thankfully, none of her brothers were brutish or unkind. They’d all inherited Mother’s qualities of gentleness and strength, and the younger ones allowed her to tell them to put on an extra cloak or hood to keep warm and even welcomed her hugs and kisses—as long as their older brothers weren’t watching.
Edwin came walking up behind them. Hearing people address him as Lord Dericott was strange, but Delia was so happy he would be home with her now. Edwin would enjoy his new duties and would have more time for reading and learning languages, which he enjoyed almost as much as he enjoyed training to be a knight. He was quiet but could be outspoken against injustice. She’d known him to get furious about unfair treatment he’d witnessed and take action to make it right.
He was only twenty-two years old, but he would be a good landlord for those living in Dericott.
“A healthy litter. All seven still thriving?”
“Yes, and this one is mine, Edwin. I want to name her.” Roland held up the puppy he had been cradling.
“Very well.” Edwin picked up the black one with a gray ear who had just started crawling over his littermates and waking them up. Edwin held the puppy in one hand and stroked its fur with the other. “This is a lively one.”
“There are only seven puppies,” Roland said, snuggling his puppy to his chest again. “But there are eight of us, if you include Delia.”
“Thanks for including me.” Delia winked to soften her sarcastic tone.
“Not enough to go around,” Roland continued. “So someone will not get to name a puppy.”
“I don’t mind giving up my rights to one,” Edwin said.
Roland glanced up at Edwin. “Perhaps Merek won’t mind not getting to name a puppy. I don’t recall seeing him out here petting them.”